Broken Dreams
by Karina of Darkness
Summary: Songfic to Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day. Otto reflects on himself, his condition, and the actuators.


AN: Songfic. Yes. To Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day. That song rules. Thank yee.

Disclaimer: Don't own Ock, don't own BoBD. Wish I did.

_Broken Dreams_

_kod. _

It was dark. Dark enough to not be able to see your hand in front of you face, the sort of dark people associate with the moments before a crime scene.

It was roughly two in the morning, on this particular December particular night. A particularly cold and chilly night. A snowy one, in addition. Not like you could actually _see_ the snow in the darkness.

I say this now, musing to myself, as I stare out into the heavy blackness. The black is green as I look at it from four different points, four constantly moving cameras, the faint and luminescent green that night vision is is what I'm seeing now, and although looking is disorienting, it's better then not looking at all.

Of course, it's not really _my_ eyes. It is, but isn't. The line between them and I has blurred, moreso then I'd like to admit.

I walk a lonely road 

_The only road that I have ever known  
Don't know where it goes  
But it's home to me_  
_And I walk alone_

It's a rather interesting concept – I can't even begin to count the hours I'm thought about it And them besides just the connection and how it works and where that line is…there is always the actuators themselves.

I suppose, to some extend, it is my own fault that I have come to this. I suppose that I _am_ over-ambitious ,and this much is true. Or, at least, I was. I don't really know what I am anymore – some combination of man and machine, a fusion of life and technology – it's all rather fascinating to study, as long as you're not the one who's problem it happens to be.

_I walk this empty street_  
_On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
When the city sleeps  
and I'm the only one  
and I walk alone. _

_**Father?**_

Their voices aren't disturbing or disrupting, like you would think – far from it. They sooth me, setting my mine at east. Not just one voice – a quartet, rather. A quartet of hypnotically relaxing and alluring voices. The are always in harmony, always musical, a sort of endless siren's song.

It was that song that had nudged me , persuaded me, and had, for all intents and purpose, told me to rebuild the fusion device.

But it was my fault, and I know this now. They offered it to me, like a golden chalice on a silver platter – and I took it, like a greedy man, only wanting for himself. And I had enjoy drinking the wine from that chalice, until Parker – Spiderman – had told me that the wine, was in fact, poison.

And that was when I had finally stopped listening to their hypnotic voices, and realized that in fact, what I heard in their real words – music, beautiful, wonderful – was nothing like what others heard – a mechanical hissing and sharp, fierce chittering.

My shadow's the only one that walks besides me_  
My shallow heart's the only thing that' s beating  
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me  
Till then, I walk alone. _

That was when Parker spoke, told me my own words. And others, others that couldn't have been his, "Sometimes…" I say quietly, one nightvision camera looking up at the sky, which appears as an endless field of emerald, "In order to do what's right, we have to be steady and give up our dreams….." A quiet chuckle, "Yes, that's right, isn't it, Parker.."

I can tell you as a fact I was supposed to die. I should have died. If I wasn't burned to death by the water, drowned from lack of air, then I would have been pulled into the fading sun.

But here I am, still talking to myself. I don't _think_ I'm dead, and if I am, then I am simply experiencing hell on earth. It's a possibly, I suppose.

Though, I reconsider, rubbing the three-day-old stubble growing on my chin, if it was, I highly doubt the reawakening would have been as painful.

As you can probably assume, waking up was just about the second-to-last thing I wanted to do. The first thing was waking up their voices, their harmony gently rousing me as only a lover could.

_I'm walking down the line__  
That divides me somewhere in my mind  
On the borderline  
Of the edge is  
where I walk alone. _

_**Father?  
Are you awake?  
Why are you standing there?  
Is something wrong?**_

They rouse me from my thoughts, but it is not so bad. It's not like I am thinking about anything important, anyway. I rarely do.

Their voices are concerned as I see and feel the four cameras I'm using for my eyes shift, looking back at me. My eyes are closed – this hasn't changed throughout the time I've been awake after the reactor went down again – and the lines on my face are haggard, the stubble growing, my entire face simply seems…._worn out. _As if I've just had too much of everything.

I wouldn't doubt it.

_Read between the lines__  
What's f-cked up and everything's alright  
Check my vital signs_  
_And know I'm still alive  
And I walk alone. _

It is difficult, but I have come to terms with it – I am blind. My true eyes will see again. The first reactor put a terrible strain on them, making it painful to look into bright light at all, but it was doable. Sunglasses became necessary, most of the time. Goggles were the best option. This second one, apparently, was simply too much for my already strained eyes, simply robbing them of their sight completely. I have no idea what exactly is wrong with them – but whatever it is, even the faintest bit of light is extraordinary painful. And with this, it is simply easier to keep my eyes closed.

It is not so bad, after all. The actuators, the four moving mechanical cameras, hooked directly into my cerebellum, are my eyes now. Four eyes instead of six. It's disorienting, looking through four moving cameras, all in different places, and I wish there was some way to avoid it. But there isn't – it's my only way to see the outside world. I trust I'll get used of it eventually.

Eventually.

_My shadow's the only one that walks besides me__  
My shallow heart's the only thing that' s beating  
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me  
Till then, I walk alone._

_**Father, what are you thinking about?  
Is something wrong?  
Can we help you, Father?**_  
……_**Father?**_

I don't respond to them – I don't know why. I suppose I'd much rather simply look and be silent, admire the constantly moving vision of the greenish skyline I see now.

_**Father?  
Father, are you alright?  
Can we help you?  
Do you need something?**_

"I'm fine," I announce after another long silence, rubbing my sightless eyes, "Just…tired."

They can hear the half-heartedness in my voice, and they respond how I expect them too.

_**Tired of what?  
Of this boredom, Father?  
Would you like to go back to work?  
Yes, Father, you should work. **_

"No," I respond coldly, hearing the beginnings of seduction in their harmony, "I will not work."

_I walk this empty street__  
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams  
When the city sleeps  
and I'm the only one  
and I walk alone. _

I direct one actuator-camera to the street. Two more follow, the third still watching me. The streetlights are on; the nightlife it out, and with all of this, is the enhanced police force. Ironically enough, they are always less inclined to look up at night.

I'm nocturnal now, and I suppose that would be the best way of saying it. The day is too bright, closed eyes or not, and it's too filled with people. Too dangerous. It's a time to hide away on a rooftop or freeload an apartment. But the night…the night is better. The night brings those who think me a hallucination; those who admire me for strange reasons, and those who are simply too drugged or drunk to care. And of course, less people, in general. It's easier to get away with things – to sneak into an open building, to steal, to hide. And these things still bother my conscience, after all this time. Every time I steal, my conscience metaphorically yells at me. Every time I don't, my stomach rumbles uncomfortably. It is a rather tedious situation.

_**Father?  
Father, can we fly across the rooftops?  
Would you let us do this?  
It is the night. People will not see us. **_

I consider for a moment before answering, "Yes, but you must be quiet about your movements, and you must not leave the roofs."

_**Thank you, Father.  
We love you.  
You know we love you.  
We are your children, after all. **_

_My shadow's the only one that walks besides me__  
My shallow heart's the only thing that' s beating  
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me  
Till then, I walk alone._

I smiled at this. The actuators are questionable things, but their loyalty to my goals is unwavering. And their voices are hypnotic, a siren's song, a beautiful melody.

"Yes, I know you love me. And I love you."


End file.
